Blowing In The Wind
by Jemmiah
Summary: ObiWan finds himself sick and in excile. Will anything give him the strength to recover?


Blowing In the Wind…

By Jemmiah

He'd lain upon his back, enfeebled and weak, staring up at the stone wall of his 'home'. For three days and three nights he'd felt the burning heat of Tatooine's twin suns turn to icy chills across his feverish body. For three days he'd been immobilised, his linen clothing, stuck to his flesh, heavy with his own sweat.

For three days he'd wondered if there was any point in living.

As the hectic temperature wracked his body Obi-Wan had found himself with a lot of time to think. He'd been on the planet for the best part of eleven years, more or less in perfect isolation, in which time it had been impossible _not_ to dwell on the past. Meditating, focusing on his task; yes…

But thoughts were inevitable. Sad thoughts, mostly, filled with memories of the people he'd known and cared for…people who sometimes spoke to him in his dreams. Faces that filled his mind with a silent scream, crying out for justice. It was difficult to get over the scale of devastation left trailing in the Empire's wake especially when he, almost the last of the Jedi, had in his own way sown the seeds from which the Empire now blossomed and thrived.

The irony was not lost on Obi-Wan. Anakin had caused so much destruction and he, as young Skywalker's former master, must surely shoulder his share of the blame for the way things had turned out. A galaxy's worth of guilt was not an easy burden to carry all these years. Many had died for Anakin's greed and lust for power - indeed were still suffering - and yet here he was, Obi-Wan Kenobi, hiding within his little hut amidst the dunes and mountains on the one planet that Anakin would never willingly set foot again. He was safe enough, for now.

But Luke…

His fevered mind began to wander as his thoughts turned to Anakin's son, the fair-haired boy with whom he had fled to Tatooine what seemed a lifetime ago now. It surprised Obi-Wan to realise that, to an extent, he was afraid: not just for Luke but for the entire galaxy. A Jedi of course should not know fear, especially one that had managed to survive all the darkness he had faced, but Obi-Wan was not ashamed to admit when he thought of all the trials and tribulations Luke would one day face that a little consternation was not inappropriate. One day Padme's child would lift the burden from his shoulders, carrying his hopes and ambitions with him. But was it right?

"He has his own life…" Obi-Wan muttered bleakly through parched lips, shuddering as a sudden chill coursed through is body. "We have…no right to ask…this of him."

But the fate of the galaxy depended on Luke's selflessness. At least with Owen and Beru the boy would not lack for a family, in fact the choice of guardian could hardly have been better planned. All Owen wanted was for Luke to follow in his footsteps and be a moisture farmer, as had his own father and grandfather before him. All Beru wanted was to look after the child. But Owen's wish to protect Luke, to smother all traces of the potential Jedi that lurked within, would one day cause problems and ultimately stifle his 'nephew'. The desire to prove himself and be something more than just a farmer burned deeply in Luke: Obi-Wan could feel it, even at such an early age. The same independent streak and ambition that had once flourished in Anakin was slowly consuming his son. It might work to Obi-Wan's advantage. Then again, look what had happened to Anakin…

"He has no evil renegades pouring poison into his young ears, stoking his ego." Obi-Wan murmured to nobody in particular. "At least that is something I can be sure of where Owen is concerned. He loves Luke…but he is afraid to praise him. He fears the son will become conceited, like Anakin. Owen has the stolidity and imagination of a brick. He's just what Luke needs…"

It might be what Luke needed right then, but what Obi-Wan needed was a healer. And considering he was stuck supposedly incognito on a dust-bowl planet where medi-droids were scarce, plus the fact that every healer he had ever known was supposedly dead, his chances of receiving the necessary medical aid seemed somewhat remote.

He felt so weak! What had caused his ailment, especially considering his isolation, was a mystery to him. Perhaps it had been that visit to Mos Eilsey a fortnight ago…but surely he would have succumbed to any viral illnesses long before now, unless of course the incubation period was suitably strange? Perhaps the very isolation he had come to cherish had worked against him this time. With no exposure to common germs and bacteria Obi-Wan was less likely to fight off his malaise.

If he could perhaps just reach the pitcher of water on the simple wooden table beside his bed…

He attempted to lift his head from his pillow but didn't get very far, his skull feeling altogether too heavy for the muscles in his neck to support. Sometimes it was difficult to justify his continued existence when so many of his comrades had perished. Now, at his lowest ebb, Obi-Wan wondered if he just shouldn't lie back and let the force do as it pleased. But if he did that then who would watch over Luke? There was more at stake than his own pitiful life.

"Must…rest." Obi-Wan whispered, closing his eyes. "The force will…guide me."

It would be so easy to give in. So easy to die. He could have chosen that route before, when facing Anakin and many occasions since, but his demise would achieve nothing save a long-awaited triumph for he Emperor. Obi-Wan was not prepared to become another Jedi statistic, not yet. Not when there was so much left for him to do.

The voices conflicted in his head, confusing him. Wanting him to fight, and survive. Willing him to find the strength through the force to carry on. Telling him that he had done enough…that he had earned his rest. The galaxy was not his to be saved. But he had helped to enslave it. What made him think that he could take away the pain? Better to die and be forgotten. Better to sleep…

And finally when it became too much for his exhausted body, sleep Obi-Wan did.

* * *

He had no notion of how long he had been unconscious, or if his healing trance had even worked properly. His body felt like a dead weight, as lifeless and heavy as an old wine sack. For a brief moment Obi-Wan wondered if he was actually dead before deciding that he surely couldn't feel the amount of discomfort he was experiencing if he had joined with the force. Through half-closed heavy lids the former Jedi could see the pitcher of water gradually morphing from three wavering shapes back into one, whilst everything else about the room remained strangely dark and gloomy. Everything except for the brightness that radiated from the left side of his bed.

He half-turned, feeling a cool, comforting hand against his forehead. It was like an icy balm to his flushed and feverish skin. A shape…no, a person, was sitting perched on the edge of his bed: one with a face that lit up with a wide and pretty smile.

"I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to wake up." The voice said warmly.

Obi-Wan's eyes attempted to focus unsuccessfully for a moment, reaching for a name that went with the beautiful face. Even after his mind finally tracked down the illusive name he had a hard time convincing himself that what he was seeing was true.

"Are you real?" He asked hoarsely.

"As real as you are." Came the nonchalant rejoinder.

Kenobi blinked repeatedly for several moments, not quite believing what his own eyes, or indeed the force were telling him.

"Jemmy?" He tried the name out, wondering why it sounded so alien and out of place amidst the desert sands. "How can you be here…now? With me? Amongst this…"

"I'm here because you need me to be here." Jemmiah looked around the room, tutting slightly as her gaze fell intently upon every nook and cranny. "Because we made a promise that we'd always think of each other when we needed help. And that's why I'm here." She finished with a slight shrug, as if wondering why he should be questioning her on such a trivial and obvious matter.

Her answer disturbed Obi-Wan although as yet he was unable to say why. He'd left her on Corellia with Rela, safe and out of harms way. It had been his one consolation, his greatest solace in his exile, that she at least amongst all the carnage and slaughter had managed to remain unharmed. Fortunately their relationship had ended so long ago that it was long forgotten by those who might seek to turn it to their advantage. And yet here she was, sitting beside him on his bed, when he had most needed the company of a friend.

"Not safe here." Obi-Wan grunted, his illness making his words more abrupt than he had anticipated. "Go home…to Rela."

"Rela won't mind." Jemmy smiled again, moving her cool fingers to his cheek. "I'm going to stay with you a while until you're better."

Obi-Wan didn't know if he should feel relief at the thought of having company whilst he recuperated or whether he should be concerned that she would have to leave when he was better. His inclination was to ask Jemmy to remove herself for her own safety, if not for fear of catching his malady then for the grave danger she - and he - might now be in if the Empire had ever decided to place her under close watch. Her presence might not just jeopardise those he had sought so hard to protect but also his mission to watch over young Luke…

"Must go, Jemmy." He said tiredly. "You must…"

"Garbage." The Corellian voice declared roundly. "I'm staying for the moment, and there's nothing you can do about it! You're too weak to move, and too befuddled to use the force. If you want me to go then you'll have to get better first!"

She was as beautiful as he remembered her the day he'd last said goodbye. Time had stood still for Jemmy; it seemed, whereas the harsh Tatooine suns had not been kind to him. His hair was rapidly turning grey. The climate had rendered his skin somewhat weather-beaten and dry. He'd long since cast aside any notions of vanity, yet he could still take delight in the face of his pretty former lover, to whom the years had been exceptionally kind.

"Jemmiah…"

She rolled her eyes, evidently not impressed with either himself or his humble abode.

"You always were a bad patient." Jemmy remarked crisply in her no-nonsense voice. "I remember the times where Qui-Gon or I had to nurse you. Always so restless! Never content to stay put and heal. Now look at the mess you've got yourself into!"

Was he dreaming, Obi-Wan wondered as he blinked the beads of cold sweat that had run down from his brow and gathered on his eyelids. How could she be here? How had she known where to find him? Only one person knew where he was - just one. Had Jemmiah been told of his hiding place? It seemed almost impossible for her to be there with him, and yet there she was…talking to him. Stroking his hair, just as she used to. Doing all the things that Jemmiah would always do to comfort him.

"Impossible." Obi-Wan's tongue hardly formed the words, refusing to un-stick itself from the roof of his parched mouth.

"What's impossible?" Jemmy asked him, curiously. "The fact that you're in a mess? Look around you if you don't believe it. This," she appeared to search for a word that was both applicable and yet not give offence, before giving it up as a lost cause, "gloomy little hovel. What are you doing here?"

Obi-Wan had asked himself that question many, many times since returning to Tatooine. What answer could he possibly give? Because he needed to be somewhere alone, where he would endanger nobody? Because not even the Emperor would think to look for an escaped Jedi in such a barren wilderness, where only the bare essentials were available to live off? Because he needed to keep a close watch on Luke's progress, but with enough distance to satisfy Owen? Or perhaps because he felt undeserving of any other kind of life…

"You always were big on punishing yourself." Jemmy sighed, adjusting an impractical short red dress, totally unsuited for Tatooine's harsh climate. That at least was typical of Jemmiah, he thought morosely. Even when travelling half way across the galaxy she insisted on making a show. "It's not as if you have reason. Things happen, Ben. They just do. Sometimes there's nothing you can do about it." She gave a short little laugh. "Call it the will of the force, if you like."

She stood up and walked around the room, poking her head around every available corner. "You really should take better care of yourself, you know? Especially when there's so much resting on you…"

How did she know? Obi-Wan's eyes managed to crank themselves upwards, although the effort to do so seemed enormous. His thoughts didn't seem to be his own, and even given Jemmy's past ability to read him so well, and vice versa, this was more than a little uncanny…

"D'you know," she turned round to face him, arms folded and weight resting nonchalantly on one leg, "I used to think that all the horrible things that happened to me were because of something I was doing, or because I deserved it. But I know now that's not true. And you were the one who tried to tell me that!"

"Did I?" Obi-Wan grunted.

"You said that it was important to realise that once a thing had happened, no matter how terrible, that I had to accept and move on, because otherwise it would eat away at me and make life unbearable. Typical! Here am I now quoting your own advice back to you to get you to make an effort!" She offered him a slow, knowing wink. "You were right."

"I was?"

"It took a long while for me to accept it." Nodded Jemmy. "But after a time I decided I had to focus on what I had, not on what might have been if things had happened differently. And once I did, I felt…"

"What?"

"Free. Content, even." Finished Jemmy with a sigh. "And that's what you have to do. Which is why," she returned to hover anxiously over his bed, "I'm here. That and to make sure you get better. Don't want you giving in or anything foolish like that, do we?"

Obi-Wan half-closed his eyes once more. "When did you become my conscience?" He asked her ruefully.

"Since you own conscience decided to shrivel up in self-pity and guilt." Jemmy answered truthfully, eyeing him with much curiosity. "You know, you've gotten older. I guess that's what all this sun and sand does to you, yes? Can't say I'd like it much."

"I begin to see what Qui-Gon meant when he said he'd earned every grey hair." Obi-Wan's voice was distant and as dry as the grains of sand that blew with such ferocity on the frequent storms around his home.

"Wear them like a badge of honour." Jemmy bent over him, placing a moist, cool kiss against his cheek. "It may be the one thing you have left, but it's more than most have when all's said and done."

He felt his head begin to nod as sleep beckoned once more. He still didn't understand how Jemmy was there, or indeed why, but for the time being he would remain content with the fact that she was. Perhaps when he next awakened he would have time to think on what she had said, but for the moment he would rest, and try to regain his strength.

"You'll be here when I awaken?" He asked drowsily.

Jemmy smiled. "I'm not going anywhere." She paused for a moment. "Yet."

* * *

Obi-Wan tossed and turned as he slept and as he did so his dreams inevitably returned to those familiar faces who regularly haunted his subconscious. His master, so dear to his own heart, reasoning with him, encouraging him. Dex Berlingside, Tanni Welasa, Garos Hmiol who had long since fallen…Zac V'Aladee, whose face he had last looked upon during the harsh reality of Genosis, as he reached for his wrist to feel a pulse…all clamouring for a space within his mind. Sal-Fina and Ambianca, who had proved themselves worthy of the title 'Jedi', Toms Yarrel who had nearly achieved the impossible…

There was no scream for justice. This time their words conveyed only hope for the future: a future that Obi-Wan sometimes, for all his inherent belief in the force, had difficulty envisaging. Of all the faces perhaps one stood out amidst the crowd, fighting her way to the forefront as she always did.

He felt the cool hand against his cheek once again, but this time when he looked into the copper eyes he saw only sadness. She looked younger than she had when they'd last spoken, barely older than when they had first met: a thin, wisp of a child with wild, chestnut hair and a pout that suggested she was used to getting her own way. Strange how dreams always confused and twisted the truth, Obi-Wan thought vaguely as Jemmy stepped forward from the sea of Jedi standing behind her.

"I just came to say goodbye." She shrugged unhappily. "Quiggy says it's time to go. I'm not even supposed to be here." Jemmy looked nervously over her shoulder. "I just wanted to make sure you got better, coz you're important. You do know that, don't you? You've got to promise me you will."

Obi-Wan found himself nodding, astonished, as Qui-Gon appeared from nowhere amidst the dream and stood behind her, placing his hands protectively on her shoulders.

"That's okay then." The elfin face broke into the familiar Corellian grin. "I guess I can go now."

"But you only just arrived…" Obi-Wan frowned.

"Things will work out, Ben. I promise you." She gave him a tiny, uncertain wave before turning to walk away, Qui-Gon's hand still upon her shoulder as they filed after the Jedi he had once known and fought alongside: his brothers-in-arms. In the distance Obi-Wan could see what appeared to be a large, white sun, dazzling and radiant with the power of the force. For a moment all Obi-Wan wanted to do was follow on after them, not wanting to be left behind…alone. As he had been for the last decade. As he would be until whatever needed to happen finally happened. Until Luke was of an age to remove the dreaded burden from him…

It was thoughts of Luke that stopped Obi-Wan from heading after them. That and the fact he had given Jemmy his word. As he watched Qui-Gon disappear towards the white light, Jemmy stopped briefly and turned to give him one final smile.

"I'll be waiting for you, Ben." She waved again.

And then she too was gone.

When Obi-Wan awakened from his dream he found that he felt considerably better than he had before, his fever having broken at long last. He still felt weak and tired, but the illness had finally burned itself out of his system. A few hours of meditation would soon strengthen him, and perhaps he would soon be able to get out of the bed that had been his prison for the last three days or so. Jemmy had been right, of course. He always had been a terrible patient.

Jemmy was not in his room when he had woken, and whilst it hadn't surprised him it had somehow caused him great disappointment. He was, as he had feared, alone once again. Even the voices in his mind that had so plagued him of late had gone. Perhaps that was something he should feel grateful for! But Jemmy…he'd tried not to think of her too much, even although it had been difficult on occasions. She was safer on Corellia, with Rela, than she ever would have been with him. Trust her to seek him out in his dreams and put him to rights! Always she seemed to know when he was feeling low in spirits, as he did with her. He tried to touch her mind, reaching with the force as he sometimes did to reassure himself of her welfare, but this time when he did he found…

Nothing.

Obi-Wan frowned. He supposed he was still too weak to fully utilise the force, or perhaps Jemmy was somehow shielded from him, yet he was concerned enough to try once again to reach her. After a further few minutes of trying Obi-Wan's concern had increased enough to make him drag himself out of his bed, feet dangling over the side. A thousand and one memories assailed him; of swapping the water sprinklers and the slurry system over in the temple gardens, of the trip to Urior and its immediate aftermath, of the loss of Emma, the evenings spent at the Hell's Chance Cantina and the infamous crawl around the taverns of Coruscant. Of her subsequent marriage to Jonas and the birth of Han. At the end of all the trials and tribulations the memories were what kept Obi-Wan going. Nobody could take those from him. His consolation as he had sat in his self-imposed exile had been that she at least would be safe. But now Obi-Wan felt certain that Jemmiah wasn't safe. Jemmiah was…

Jemmiah was dead.

He'd felt his heart sink as he'd finally recognised the truth. She'd spoken to him primarily to encourage him to fight his illness, and when her task was considered complete she had said goodbye.

_There is no death._ He reminded himself. _Hasn't my dream, if it was a dream, just proven that._

He hoped, just as she had said, that she finally found the peace she had spent her whole life searching for. He hoped that Qui-Gon was looking after her, and that she would indeed wait for him to join her when the force deemed the time to be right. For a moment he thought of Rela, of the grief she and her family would surely be experiencing. There was nothing he could do for them except hope that they would at least live a long and fruitful life.

Better that they do so under a new Republic, rather than the harsh, intolerant and corrupt Empire, with its megalomaniac ruler and Sith Lord enforcer.

Luke was not ready, nor would be ready to face up to his challenge for some time. Qui-Gon, Jemmy, Rela, Anakin, himself…they were all grains of sand blowing on the wind. Perhaps it had been his destiny to end up where he had: there was after all no such thing as luck. Obi-Wan somehow managed to smile, despite the weight of the loss he felt. For his own sake, as well as that of Rela's extended family, he would continue to plan. And wait.

And hope.


End file.
